Romance And Funerals

It was late in the afternoon of my 25th anniversary and things had been rockin' pretty well all day, a little busy, but all seemed in sync. I had all but a few things packed for my trip to Texas to attend my Uncle's 70th birthday and I was ready to go out. A few weeks prior, my husband had made reservations at one of my all time favorite restaurants, Morton's The Steakhouse.

I glanced at my watch, don't know why I did that since I didn't have my contacts in or my glasses on and couldn't see a damn thing. I blindly went about searching for a pair of glasses. After a few minutes I found a pair tucked behind the TV in the bedroom, why I didn't just look at my iPhone (the numbers are BIGGER), I have no idea. I guess that's what happens when you get old, you tend to forget things, or at least pretend to. Reaching 50 pretty much gave me a reason to deliver the words, "Oh, I forgot," on much needed occasions.

Our reservation was at 6. We needed to leave by 5:15 and it was then 4:20, wow, 4:20, I just realized that as I wrote it. I hadn't showered, I was wearing no make up, I had no dress ready, nothing, nada. I quickly threw off my jeans and shirt, put my glasses on the night stand, and jumped in the shower. It wasn't long before I realized that when I cleaned the shower earlier in the day I forgot to put the shampoo on the left and the conditioner on the right. That's the only way either of us can tell which is which. Neither of us can see shit without glasses, or in my case, contacts. Crap.

I got out of the shower, soaking wet, dripping all the way to fetch my glasses. I put the glasses on, went back in the shower and they promptly fogged up. What the hell ever. I took them off and placed them on the upper rim of the glass wall. I'd just grab a bottle and see what came out. It must have been my lucky day, I selected correctly!

After the shower, I hurriedly did my hair, put make up on, and wriggled into the infamous, "high low, crochet dress, with a crisscross back." This time, however, I remembered to take off the charm bracelet. I was ready to go out with Jeff for an incredible evening in celebration of his putting up with my crazy for 25 years.

The ride to Morton's was beautiful, I really love downtown Portland. It's like no city I've ever seen. I was looking forward to spending time with Jeff alone. It seemed we hadn't really seen each other, much less had a real conversation, in weeks.

When we arrived, the valet opened my door, Jeff cautioned me to watch my dress in the front, you know, the "high" part of the "high low" because, truthfully, I was in such a hurry to get ready, I sort of forgot to put on, uh, yeah, anything under the dress. I got out holding my breath to see if the valet would slam the door on my car or not. He didn't, I allowed him to live. And, yes, I did a fabulous job of getting out of the car, I guess I should show Paris and Britney how it should be done.

The staff at Morton's welcomed us, showed to our table and handed us our menus. We noticed, on the top it said, "Happy 25th Anniversary." That's one reason I love Morton's, they attend to every detail.

The signs were all pointing to a wonderful night. It was after we ordered cocktails that Jeff turned to me and said, "I want to talk about my funeral."

Wait. Stop. Rewind.

"You want to talk about what?"

"My funeral. You need to know what I want. I only have a handful of years left and you need to know how I want things to go."

"Uh, Ok, but I thought this was supposed to be a romantic time?"

"No, I want to talk about my funeral."

"Ok, should I take notes?"

"No, this will be easy."

"Uh, ok....."

"First of all there will be no crappy funeral songs, nothing weepy, nothing mournful. I want 80's music, you know, dance music."

"Alright, and then?"

"No suits, no dress pants, only shorts, t-shirts are fine, no ties, nothing like that. I want people to speak, but not of my death, not how they're going to miss me, none of that crap. I want funny stories, I want people to laugh."

"So what am I supposed to do with your body?"

"Oh, throw me out so the coyotes can have a good meal."

"You know THAT''s not happening!"

"Cardboard box, cremate me, whatever you want to do."

So, I was kind of feeling the romantic evening was taking a turn for the other side of life.

"So you got that?"

"You mean, do you understand or do you have that?"

"Stop correcting my grammar. I'm a Texan and we can speak however we want."

"Ok, I have it. Casual dress, upbeat songs, and coyote food, right?

"Exactly."

After he got that off his chest his conversation turned to our relationship and he began to cry. He told me how much he loved me, and how he loved me more each day, that I'd changed his life (uh, no shit! We adopted 6 kids and he had to put up with my crazy).

He was sweet, he was awesome, and he was himself.

The rest of the evening flowed beautifully, as if scripted. It was inspiring, touching, and had the occasional pulling of heart strings.

Then a girl came over and took our picture. Within a couple of minutes she brought it back to us. It had been signed by everyone there, and a very touching gesture for them to make.

After dinner they brought us a lemon souffle in honor of our anniversary. The ending of the night was incredible, and we spoke about all we had endured during our 25 years together, and of how we anticipated the remaining years to be.

Then we paid our check, they pulled the table away from us so we could get up and we went to have the valet bring my car.

It was after Jeff started the car, and began to pull away, that I remembered he'd had a "few" Long Island Teas. I took a deep breath as we headed out of Portland and wondered if maybe I should begin to plan my funeral as well. In actuality, we had been there for hours and he was fine to drive, although I was a little nervous when he began to mess with the stereo system. He had NO idea what to do and had his eyes on the video display instead of the road, but after a few tips he got it and we cruised the rest of the way home listening to Collective Soul.

The evening couldn't have been more perfect. I'm an extremely lucky person to have this amazing man in my life, taking care of not only me, but our kids as well.

Although, he did kind of creep me out with the "cardboard box" suggestion. Just where does one find one that size? Hell, what am I talking about? I still have my two past dogs in boxes in the closet, I still can't part with them, and it's been years. But I think I'd really be creeped out with Jeff in an urn on the mantle. 

 ""

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Yes, More Bubble Thoughts!

Time for another round of Bubble Thoughts! I'd really like to make this into a meme, but I have no idea what the heck I'm doing. Nolie sent me over to the "make a linky" thing and I still couldn't figure it out. Any help for this elderly granny would be appreciated!

Me: “I’ve not been sleeping well lately.”
Jeff: “If you’d exert more physical activity in the day you’d sleep better.”
Me: (roll eyes)
Jeff: “You need to go back to the gym or work in the yard.”
Bubble thought: “If you freaking tell me what to do one more time I’ll show you physical activity. I’ll stab you in the freaking eye!”

Situation: Was sitting in California Pizza Kitchen with the boys. Jake was massaging my neck and shoulders. People were staring but it felt too good to tell him to stop.
Jake: “People are staring at you like you’re evil and making me be your slave”
Bubble thought: “I am on both counts”

Lady in the doctor’s office: “Teri you look great! But then you always look so pulled together and beautiful.”
Bubble thought: “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?”

Situation: Jakob is reading while I write this and read the above thought.
Jake: “Seriously?!”
Bubble thought: “You want me to perfect my death ray vision on you kid?”

Situation: Watching my son and grandson eat.
Bubble thought: “I give up. I’m buying a trough.”

Situation: Mom with two kids sitting near me at Starbucks. Kids are throwing things, screaming and kicking the glass.
Mom: “You need to chew with your mouth closed. I’m trying to teach you this so that when you’re older and on a date you won’t be embarrassed.”
Bubble Thought: “WTF? Since when do savages eat with their mouths closed? You really think your poorly parented kids will actually find dates?”

Situation: Jeff just got contacts for the first time. He’s carrying on about how stupid they are and they’re nothing but useless pieces of crap. He’s slamming doors and hitting the cabinets.
Jeff: “This is ridiculous! I’m not wearing these damn things!” This is after the first time trying to get them out.
Me: “Here, I’ll help you.”
Jeff: “Ouch! You’re clawing at my eye!!”
Me: “It’ll take time to get used to them. You’ll get it.”
Bubble thought “You’re damn right I’m clawing your eye! Stop freaking jumping around like a big baby before I shove a pacifier down your throat!”

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The Diva and the Crumb

It had been a long day filled with the usual Diva-ness, coffee, the gym a little shopping, plus assorted extras. Mid-way through the afternoon I began looking forward to my bed. I love my bed; I've spent a lot of money on it. Well, I've spent a lot of money on everything, but especially my bed. The way I see it my bedroom is a refuge from reality, a haven in the midst of havoc.

My husband's chosen career of a hand's on general contractor is a physically demanding and my job is, well, exhausting as well. At the end of the day there is nothing more wonderful than closing the big wooden double doors of the master suite, shutting out the world and climbing into the enveloping comfort of 1200 thread-count sheets atop a plush pillow top mattress.


Every morning I carefully make and arrange the bedding on the tufted leather sleigh bed in preparation for the evening's cocooning. We only use king sized flat sheets on the beds in our home, especially on mine. None of that fitted crap on my bed. I hate the way they never fit the mattress and continually work their way off and create bothersome creases and unneeded distractions. Three sheets in all go on; one covering the mattress pad to sleep on, and two more, one on each side of a matelasse quilt. Each morning I remove all of the sheets and the quilt and shake out any little irritants that may have made their way into the sheets over night. You never know what a yorkie or a construction working husband may have fall off of them in the middle of the night. Any foreign material in my bed is strictly prohibited, after all Divas have extremely sensitive skin, remember the Princess and the Pea? So think of that squared.


After the sheets have been shaken and the first two replaced, the quilt is put in place followed by the third sheet. Then the two top sheets and the quilt are folded over and smoothed down revealing the top one third of the bottom sheet. Four pillows are then neatly stacked one on another and arranged on each side of the bed and a down comforter is folded and positioned over the bottom third of the mattress. It's beautiful, refreshing and relaxing just to see.


On this day I was particularly looking forward to my bed. I was drained. Every muscle in my body ached, my joints were stiff and I just wanted to lie in peace and luxuriate in comfort. I made it into the shower and lathered the grime of the day off of me and down the drain. I shampooed my hair and scrubbed my face free of any trace of makeup. I stepped from the steamy shower, my mind continued to focus on my bed. I couldn't wait to smooth lotion on to my still damp body and climb between the sheets. I wasn't sure I could make it; my body ached more with every movement. I was so focused on getting into bed that I didn't recognize the symptoms of a virus beginning to attack my system.


I grabbed the short, white, terry cloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and wrapped it around my freshly cleaned and moisturized skin. I opened the door leading to the bedroom and there it was, my nirvana.


I pulled off my robe and dropped it at the foot of the bed and pulled back the silken sheets. I sat on the side of the bed, took in a deep breath to blow the day away and eased my body back into the awaiting paradise. I carefully pulled the sheets up around my bare skin and fell back into the welcoming stack of pillows. I sank down surrounded by the softness of cotton and down. That feeling was worth every charge on my credit card.


Only seconds after burrowing in and finding the perfect position I felt it. Just when I though the day was over.


My eyes sprang open.


You have got to be FREAKING kidding me!


There was something in my bed, something small and annoying. I wasn't going to be able to sleep until it was out, but I hurt too badly and was too weary to get out and re-make the entire bed. I couldn't even muster the strength to call for help. Like anyone would help me. Kids can't get it, I'm naked and if I have to get up and put something on I might as well shake out the friggin' bed myself. Jeff won't help. He's laughed at me for twenty three years and loves to brush crumbs, real or imagined, over onto my side of the bed. He's figured out that it's one of my little pieces of craziness.


Shit.


Maybe if I move my legs around I can get it away from me. Maybe I can maneuver it over to Jeff's side, he has skin like an elephant, and he'll never know it's there. So with my left leg I try to brush it over. Wasn't working. Maybe I could grab it with my fingers and flick it somewhere, who cares where, as long as it's no longer in my bed. Couldn't get it. Little bastard seems to have a mind of its own and it had no idea who it was up against, then again, maybe it did.


Perhaps I could ignore it. I turned over on my right side and scoonched a few inches closer to the right edge of the bed. Either it followed me or it was multiplying. Suddenly I realized that I was going to be done in by a crumb, a miniscule piece of annoyance. It was going to win. I was going to lose.


Out of frustration I began to frantically kick at the sheets, I was going to have to re-do them anyway. Pillows were flying and arms and legs thrashing about wildly. In the midst of my convulsive naked tantrum the bedroom door cracked opened. I looked up frozen in a panic-like state as my husband stood staring at me. He had this look on his face that suggested that he was just about to call the men with the white coats and butterfly nets.


"What in the hell are you doing?"

For my husband to use language like that it's got to be something severe, for me it seems a daily ocurrence.


"There are crumbs in my bed!"


It must have been a pitiful site. I knew he was going to think I was a complete loon. It was just a crumb. I began crying. I couldn't even look at him. There I was, flailing around, screaming and crying over a couple of crumbs in my bed. If that wasn't Diva-like behavior, I wasn't sure what was.


To my surprise, he didn't laugh. His look of shock turned into a knowing smile as he picked up my robe and wrapped it around my shaking skin. He told me to sit in the chair and he began to shakeout and re-make my bed. I did see him shake his head a time or two, but he never said anything. When he completed his task he pulled back the covers, and motioned for me to get into the bed. I crept back over, he removed my robe and I climbed into my now crumb free bed. Jeff pulled the covers up, tucked me in and gave me kiss along with a xanex.


He turned the lights down low and quietly closed the door as he left. It was then I heard "You kids will never guess what just happened!"


Oh well, I turned over, burrowed in again and slept in comfort.

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Let's Just Say......

I was feeling a little bit different this morning than I was the other night. Highlights? Lowlights? No, how about Points of Irritation?

• Didn't take my meds until late last night, I mean I had to get through "A Few Good Men." Like I discussed with Gucci Mama, great movie. Love Jack Nicholson, think Tom Cruise is a PIG, but I tolerate him in that, my favorite movie.
• Got to sleep about 3.
• Woke up to a whining puppy at 6.
• Husband no where in sight, his truck is gone!
• I, The Diva, have to stand out in the cold, pouring Portland rain with nothing on but a short white robe waiting for the freaking, stupid, demanding puppy to do her thing.
• Call husband to find out where the hell he was.
• He tells me "She was sleeping so well that I didn't want to wake her."
• WHAT?
• He has the nerve to tell me I wanted the puppy!
• I throw puppy into kennel.
• Go back to bed, soaking wet with very cold feet.
• Finally get to sleep.
• Kids begin screaming, running and tearing the house apart about 8.
• Contemplating hotel and room service downtown tonight.

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The Cruise

The daily notes in the cruise newsletter simply said “Hilarious Adult Game Show”. We weren’t really sure what to expect but went anyway, after all we’d be in the audience, no problem. We got to the theater about a half hour early and found a great seat. The theater was in the shape of a rectangle with the stage area on one end and the other three sides were filled with seats.
While we waited for the theater to fill we watched the big screen and the “kiss me” shots that would come up. We’ve never been chosen for one of those kiss me spots at any event we’ve ever been to. That night we were chosen. Looking back I should have taken it as an omen.
Soon the theater was filled and the show began. The cruise director came out and started the ball rolling by telling us that most of us wouldn’t have a clue as to what to expect and mumbled something about not being responsible for the therapy for any child left in the theater. That would have been a clue for us to exit the theater, but did we take it? No way. We stayed.
We were told that this would be an “adult scavenger hunt”. Ok, I thought, it couldn’t be so bad. The audience was divided up into about 12 teams and two people from each team were chosen, or volunteered, to be team leaders. Our team leaders were a little, cute blonde girl about 20 yrs old and a college guy about 23 or so.
The concept was simple and seemed ok, the cruise director would ask for an object and the team had to find the object(s) and get them to the team leader so that they could then take them to the cruise director. Points would be awarded and prizes were to be given to the leaders of the winning team.
I’m sure that the first objects to be found were chosen to put us all at ease: a bar bill, foreign currency, a girl’s tattoo with wings, nothing too bad. We still felt pretty comfortable with the whole thing. Even when he asked for false teeth out of their owner’s mouth, we couldn’t foresee getting sucked into this vortex. You should have seen that cute little girl grab those saliva covered teeth that dripped all the way to center stage. She wanted the points so badly and didn’t want to offend the mouth that offered them up. Seriously though, little blondie was about to spew.
Then things started to get more interesting. He asked for the largest bra, it was a 44DD (Jeff and I have this argument going on regarding this, which is larger a 44DD or a 36E? He told me that I would have won with the 36E, but I’m thinking that the 44 DD would have made me look like a kindergartener!). Then the director asked for a thong. Girls were running down in herds to show him their underwear. There were butts flashing everywhere, girls pushing other girls out of the way, panties in hand and then he held up a flip flop shoe and said that everyone must have mis -understood, he only wanted a shoe!
Next the team leaders were asked to find three men’s belts not being worn. Jeff stood up and popped that belt off in record time. Man, he really seemed to be getting into the spirit of the evening. Next the cruise director asked for three pairs of men’s pants not being worn. Before I could turn to look I felt the “swoosh” of khaki colored silk pants by my head. I turned in time to see my husband, along with the man on my other side, happily running to that cute little blonde, pants in hand. I don’t think they even gave a second’s thought about what kind of underwear, or lack of, that they had been wearing that night.
Cute little blonde college girl took all of the pants to the cruise director. He awarded points to the various team leaders and then had them lay the pants in a pile in the center of the stage. It was then that he directed the pants’ owners to come down and retrieve them. You would have thought that Jeff would have considered it. No, he didn’t. He bounded down those stairs to the middle of the stage to claim his khakis.
Ok, so if this was the worst of it, no big deal. But somehow I knew that this wouldn’t be the end. And I was correct. Ole Cruise director then asked for man carrying an empty purse, wearing lipstick and wearing a bra they way it was meant to be worn. OMG! I could feel Jeff ripping off his shirt and knew that he was coming after my bra. I gave it to him, at least it wasn’t me going into the center of the stage! In what seemed like one fluid motion, his shirt was off, my bra was on and he had lipstick on his mouth and he was running faster than any 58 year old man should be allowed to.
The theater roared with laughter. I was laughing so hard that I was crying. My eyes burned as my makeup ran into them. I couldn’t catch my breath and the woman next to me kept asking “Is THAT your husband?” Then I see Jeff in the line having to “walk the runway like a super model”! Oh Mother of God! I can’t take much more of this. I couldn’t breathe, the audience was howling and my husband was strutting his stuff in front of the entire ship. It was bad enough when he was romping around in HIS underwear, but now he was in mine!
I composed myself enough to look up and see him do his “sexy” little walk followed by his “sexy” little dance and then exit the stage, he was smiling all the way. I was going to have to leave the theater with a bag on my head and by the side of someone that sat fully composed, and dressed, throughout the show.
Jeff made it back to his seat, gave me back my bra and dressed himself. He once again looked respectable. Ok, it wasn’t so bad. I’ll leave the theater with him, after all no one knew us. We gathered up all of our belongings and left with the crowd. As soon as we got out in front of the theater we saw the family that we had been having dinner with each night. Surely they hadn’t been in the theater and surely they didn’t see my husband prancing around like some sort of super model on growth hormone.
One look at their faces as they burst into laughter told me that they had seen every strut, every prance and every dance move he made. All I could do was laugh as I watched tears stream down their cheeks while talking about Jeff. He had fun, he gave us all a great laugh, and most of all he gave us all a memory that will always bring a smile to our faces. Especially mine as I think of everyone he knows watching him strut away on YouTube!

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